


The Treaty of the Wolves

by Suphomie



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape, Confusion, Fear, Gags, I promise, M/M, Multi, Pain, Sacrifice, Socially awkward, Treaties, derek is good, good pack, not by derek, tied up, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:17:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suphomie/pseuds/Suphomie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills created a treaty with werewolves hundreds of years ago. They would not enter the dark forest, and in exchange werewolves had to stay in the forest and never touch a human. Unfortunately, the wolves also required a sacrifice once a year.</p><p>Stiles never thought he'd be the sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Beacon Hills created a treaty with werewolves hundreds of years ago. They would not enter the dark forest, and in exchange werewolves had to stay in the forest and never touch a human. Unfortunately, the wolves also required a sacrifice once a year.

Always a seventeen year old virgin. That's what werewolves want, aparently. At least, that's what they taught in school. And everyone respected the treaty because werewolves are basically unkillable. 

What the werewolves did to the ousacrifices? No one really knew. That's why being a senior in highschool was a terrifying time in every teens life. You never knew when the hunters would take you, and drop you in the forest. They always came at night. Always on the night of a full moon in December.

A day like today. School is quiet, as Stiles walks down the hallway with a bag on his back. The anxiety in the school is almost tangible in the air. Everyone know someone's gonna be taken tonight. 

Stiles walks over to his locker, and unlocks it. After a second, Allison appears next to him, grin on her face. Stiles turns to her with narrowed eyes as he asks, "what are you so happy about? You know what tonight is don't you?"

Allison shrugs. "I'm not a virgin, why should I be worried?" She asks with a laugh. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. He does not feel like hearing another sex story. "Because your best friend is still in fact a virgin," Stiles points out, pulling a book from his locker and shutting it, "and he just turned seventeen a month ago."

Stiles shuts the locker door, and starts walking to class. Allison follows, and says, "c'mon, Stiles. You're the sheriffs son, why would anyone take you?"

"It's still a possibility," Stiles says, as they all into their math class, "I'm just worried."

Allison gives him a soft look. "Don't be," she says sincerely, "Your dad would never let them sacrifice you."

Stiles sighs and nods. He knows that, but he's a prime candidate for a sacrifice, and that's making him on edge. Stiles opens up his text book and tries to distract himself.


	2. Chapter 2

When Stiles gets home, the house is dark. His dad is at work late. Again. Stiles sighs, and flips on a light switch. He throws his bag on the couch, and walks to the kitchen for some food.

After he eats a sandwich, he retreats upstairs to his bedroom. He thinks about starting his homework, but he's too distracted to concentrate on his work, so instead he texts ally for a while, until it's dark out.

His dad still isn't home. This has been happening more and more. It usually happens when the full moon gets close, as all the cops stand guard of the woods, in an attempt to stop any wolves from coming out.

Stiles can't help but drift off to sleep, as the sun sets around him. 

 

When he awakes, it's to someone grabbing him.

Their hands are holding his wrists, and Stiles instantly panics, and tries to struggle. Then another hand covers his mouth. His muffled screams fill the bedroom, and a blindfold is tied to block his vision.

Stiles breath quickens, as he tries to buck out of whoever's holding hims tight grip. He feels rope tying his arms together behind his back, so he tries to scream louder. That only causes a cloth gag to be tied to his mouth.

Panic fills Stiles' body, as strong arms pull him up off his bed. He tries to kick whoever's grabbing him, but there must be more than one. Stiles stills when he realizes what's going on. He's being sacrificed.

This realization makes him scream louder and struggle harder. He vaguely hears someone say in a non-agressive voice, "Don't make this hard."

When Stiles elbows one of them in what he assumes is the gut, he gets a hard punch to the head. This leaves him subdued enough for them to easily drag him out of the house, and into the trunk of their car. He sobs when the hears the trunk door slam shut, trapping him. 

The car starts to move. They're taking him to the forest. Where they're gonna leave him, for the werewolves to eat him, or kill him or whatever the fuck they'll do. Stiles tries to tug his arms apart, but the ropes are too tight. He can't see. He can't speak. He can hardly move. His head is pounding in his skull. He's terrified.

When the car comes to a stop, he gets ready to jump the guy, but when the trunk does open, they just drag him out, kicking and screaming. Then they throw him onto the forest floor.

He hears the car drive away. He tries to stand, but instantly crashes against a tree. He rubs his head against it, and manages to get the blindfold off, but not the gag. 

When he looks around, it's so dark he can barely see anything, but of what he does see, it's all trees and no discernible path or trail. Stiles has no idea where to go, so he just starts limping in a direction.

It must be at least a half an hour before the cold sets in. Stiles is only wearing a t-shirt, but it's the coldest night of the year. He collaspes by a tree. He feels cold tears run down his face. He's in the dark forest. No human should ever be here. This is where bloodthirsty werewolves live.

He hears a growl in the distance. His head shoots up, and his heartbeat shoots up. He curls into himself, and tugs at the rips around his arms again. The growling gets louder.

He hears a twig snap. Stiles lets out a sob. He's gonna die here. He can't die here, he hasn't even graduated yet. While Stiles is looking into the dark abyss of the night, he sees a pair of red glowing orbs. Those are wolf eyes, he recognizes them from his science textbook.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, as he hears lots footsteps coming at him. Frozen when terror, he lets out a heavy breath from behind the gag. 

Stiles peaks one eye open, and sees a giant wolf creature standing on his hind legs, right in front of him, his eyes glowing bright red. Stiles starts sobbing, as the things giant clawed hand reaches toward him.

He knows what's gonna happen. The things gonna kill him. That's what school taught him, that werewolves have a bloodlust. The thing grabs him by the hips, and pulls him up into his feet. Stiles is just about to start sprinting away, but the creature picks him up and throw him over its shoulder.

Stiles lets out a distressed noise. The thing starts moving, walking deeper into the woods. Stiles tries to struggle, but the thing growls loudly, so he stops.

They come across a house, in the middle of a clearing. It's big, bigger than Stiles' house. The creature carried him inside. It's too dark inside to see much, but Stiles can vaguely make out furniture. The thing takes him into a door, and down a flight of stairs.

The things throws him down on the the cold concrete ground. Stiles scurries into the corner, just in time to see the beast give him one last look, before he walks back up the stairs, and slams the door shut. Stiles thinks he hears a lock.

Stiles looks around the dimly lit concrete room. He sees a pile of chains in the opposite corner, and bloodstains coating the wall. He lets out another sob, and buries his head in his knees. Where the hell is he?


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles wakes up shivering, still tied together, huddled into the corner of the concrete basement. The only light in the room is a dim lamp hanging from the ceiling.

He lets out a wounded noise behind his gag. It's freezing down here. Where is he? He tries to remember the exact details of last night, but all he can think about is the gigantic wolf monster that took him to this house. What does it want with him? Stiles thinks it's gonna eat him. And this is its meat locker.

Stiles tries to stand, but he's dizzy, so he falls back onto his ass. Tears pool in his eyes, so he shuts them tight and looks down. He can't be scared right now. He has to keep a clear head if he's ever gonna get out of here.

He wonders if his dad knows he's gone yet. If he'll even look for him. No one is allowed into the forest, not even the police. It's all in the treaty. That's stupid, stupid treaty. Maybe his dad won't look. That just means Stiles will have to find a way out himself. He can do it. He has to do it.

Stiles' thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. Stiles makes himself as small as possible in the corner. Footsteps down the stairs echo throhgh the room. Stiles takes in a shaky breath, expecting the monster to be back. But it's not a monster that comes down into the room. It's a man.

The man is tall, with a thick black beard and tan skin. He's not too bad looking. Stiles stares at him in confusion. The man kneels down in front of him and takes the gag out of his mouth. As he reaches behind him and starts to untie the ropes restraining him, Stiles moves his mouth to stretch it.

"..w-who are you?" Stiles asks, as the ropes around his arms get looser. Silence. The man says nothing at all for a long time. Then, he mutters, "Derek."

Stiles sniffs. "A-are you h-here to save me?" Stiles asks, voice gruff from lack of use. Derek unties all of the ropes, so Stiles pulls his arms to his chest, as the guy moves away.

"I brought you here," he says. Stiles stares at him in fear. Werewolves. All the textbooks said they could change, but they never said they looked so much like humans. Dereks wearing black jeans and a t-shirt, he looks like someone Stiles would see in beacon hills, walking around.

Derek picks up the cloth he brought in, and hands it to Stiles. Stiles, freezing, pulls it on over his t-shirt instantly. It's huge in him, like a blanket. Stiles feels a great urge to pull his legs into the sweater as well, and just curl into himself.

Derek stands up, and turns around. But, before he leaves, Stiles asks in a shaky voice, "what are you gonna do to me?"  
Derek only turns back halfway. "Nothing," he says, face stoic. 

Stiles squints his eyes. He stutters out, "T-then.. a-are you g-gonna let me go?" 

Derek swallows. He turns back to the stair, and simply says, "no," before walking back up the stairs. The door slams shut, and Stiles definetly hears the lock this time. 

Stiles curls into his sweater.

 

Hours go by before the door opens again. Stiles is prepared this time, though. He stands up, and gets ready to fight. Even though, logically, he knows he can't fight a werewolf. It's impossible. He doesn't know what he's thinking, just that he needs to leave.

Derek walks down the stairs. He's holding a plate of rice and chicken. Stiles starts shaking and unconsciously backs further into the corner. Derek places the plate of food onto the floor. Stiles glances down at it, and looms back up to see him leaving towards the stairs. "Wait," Stiles says. Derek stops in his tracks. 

Stiles clears his throat and tries to make himself bigger. "W-what are you gonna do to me?" He asks again, trying and failing to sound more confident.

"Nothing," Derek says again, turning around. Stiles swallows thickly.

"T-then what d-do you want?" Stiles asks. His hands are shaking worse now. Any second Derek can turn back into a monster. And he's terrified. 

Derek looks down. ".. I'm protecting you." He states, completely void of emotion. 

Stiles takes in a shaky breath. "W-what?" He murmurs out the question. 

"You don't know what could've happened to you out there," Derek says, not making direct eye-contact, and keeping his voice very low, "you're safe here. I won't hurt you."

With that, Derek turns around. He starts to walk away, when Stiles says loudly, "Wait-"

Derek spins around, eyes glowing red, and snarls at him. Stiles' back hits the wall and his breathing gets erratic. Dereks eyes fade back to green, and his face softens. "... I'll keep you safe," he says, voice barely above a whisper. He turns around and walks back up the stairs, locking the door behind him.

Stiles clutches his heart, and tries to get his breathing back to normal. He takes in one long shaky breath, and looks down at the plate of food on the floor.

He sits back down, and picks up the plate, then stuffs chicken into his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

Allison walks through the front door of the stilinski house, using the spare key stiles gave her. She walks into the kitchen, and sees the sheriff. "Hi, mr.stilinski!" She says with a big smile plastered on her face.

The sheriff turns to her, and gives her a kind wave, along with a soft smile. "Hey kiddo," he says, pouring himself coffee, "driving Stiles to school today?"

"Yeah," she says, looking around, "is he still asleep?"

The sheriff lets out a laugh. "Yeah. You can go on up and wake him, he should've been up an hour ago."

Allison turns to the stairs and walks up them. She turns the hall, and sees Stiles' door closed. She knocks first, and when she doesn't hear an answer, she rolls her eyes and opens them. She sees a blanket covered lump on the bed. 

"Stiles?" Allison says with a laugh. The lump doesn't move. "Stiles, it's seven," she says, stepping up to the bed. She reaches out her hand and shakes the lump. Oddly, though, the lump is completely soft, and definetly not a human.

Allison pulls the blankets away, and sees that it's not Stiles. It's a pile of pillows. She makes a puzzled face. "Stiles?!" She calls, walking out of the room, and checking the bathroom. It's empty.

Allison walks back down the stairs confused. "Stiles isn't upstairs," Allison says to the sheriff, voice laced with concern. 

The sheriff looks confused as well. Then worry fills his face. "Stiles?!" He calls, putting down his coffee. He walks up the stairs, and calls Stiles name again. They check the entire house. Every room. Then when they're in Stiles' room for the fourth time, the sheriff says, "His car is still here."

Allison runs a hand throhgh her brown hair. "You- you don't think-"

"I don't know," the sheriff says, fear filling his features. They're both thinking the same thing. But, it can't be possible. Allison made sure it couldn't be possible. "I-I'm gonna go to the station," the sheriff says, "just- head on to school. I'm sure he's somewhere, okay? Don't worry."

Allison nods. She leaves the room and retreats to her car. But she doesn't head to school, she heads right back home.

 

"Dad!" She yells as soon as she walks in the front door. Her father steps out of the kitchen and says, "Allison-"

"You took Stiles?!" She screams, throwing her bag down onto the floor. Her father steps closer, and is about to say something when Allison yells, "dad are you kidding me?!"

"Allison, you know the treaty," he says, voice calm. Allison puts her head in her hands. She hoped she was wrong. "It had to be a seventeen year old virgin-"

"It didn't have to be Stiles!" She yells, "he's my bestfriend!"

Her dad shakes his head. "You know this had to be done. If we didn't sacrifice somebody, everyone would be killed by those wolves. You know that."

Allison feels a tear fall down her cheek. "I can't believe you did this," she says in an unbelieving quiet voice.

"Allison I'm sorry," he says, "it had to be done-"

Allison shakes her head. She grabs her bag and opens the front door back up. "Where are you going?" Her dad asks, concerned. 

Allison sniffs, and wipes away her tears. "I'm going to find him," she says. Then she storms out of the house and slams the door shut.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles paces the little concrete room, rubbing his freezing hands together. It's been almost two days since the wolf monster- sorry, Derek- dragged him down here. At first he was terrified. Yesterday, he was really fucking scared. Today? He's honestly more annoyed and angry then afraid.

Derek has come down three times. Once for breakfast, then dinner, then today he brought down a plate of vegetables and pork. All of the times Stiles tried to talk to him, he kept giving one answer responses and just kept saying he wouldn't hurt him, but wouldn't let him go.

Which annoyed and frustrated Stiles immensely. With every passing hour spent in this prison, Stiles gets angrier and angrier. All he wants to do is slap that stupid werewolf, and run back to the woods.

Stiles' face is filled with dry tears, and he's fucking freezing. He misses his dad, and Allison, and he never thought he'd wish to be at school so badly before. If this wolf isn't going to let him go, then what is he going to do? What the fuck is he protecting him from, he's the monster that Stiles needs to be protected from.

Stiles stops in his tracks when he hears the door open. Just earlier Stile walked up the stairs and tried to get it open, but it was locked. Stiles steps back, because hey, he is still a little scared. Derek comes down the stairs, but he's not holding a plate of food.

"Come," Derek says simply, holding his hand out. Stiles looks at the hand like was made of lava. This werewolf seriously needs to work on his social skills.

"What?" Stiles asks. He lost his fear stutter after being here over twelve hours. Derek keeps his hand out, as he says, "I'm taking you upstairs."

Stiles' brows quirk up. "Upstairs?" He asks in a confused tone.

Derek says back, "you don't want to live down here forever do you?"

Stiles shakes his head. Derek reaches his hand out further. Stiles shakily puts his hand into Dereks big tan one. Derek takes his wrist roughly. Stiles whimpers when he squeezes his tiny wrist too hard.

"Sorry," Derek says in a very quiet voice, loosening his grip. He gently drags Stiles to and up the stairs, like he's moving a peice of furniture. They go up the stairs, into a livingroom. It has two couches and a coffee table. It's nice.

"Come on," Derek snarls out, pulling hard at Stiles arm, which causes Stiles to cry out. Derek ignores it, but more gently leads Stiles out of the room, and up another flight of stairs. They walk down a hallway and into a little bedroom.

Derek basically pushes Stiles into it. Stiles stumbles, but catches himself before he falls. He turns around, to see Derek standing in the doorway. 

"Is this my room?" Stiles asks, looking around. There's one queen sized bed, a bedside table, and a dresser. It has a plain white wallpaper and a tan carpet. Derek closes the door shut, and pushes past him, muttering yes. 

Derek stops at the dresser, and opens the top drawer. Stiles looks to the door, and thinks for a minute about running, but he can't outrun a werewolf. 

"There are clothes in here," Derek says. Stiles glances into the drawer without having to get too close to Derek. It's filled to the top with shirts and pants. Good, because Stiles has been wearing the same sweater for as long as he's been here.

"They were mine," Derek mutters, "sorry if they're too big."

Derek steps away from the dresser, and heads towards the door. "What are you really gonna do to me?" Stiles asks. Derek stops in his tracks.

"I told you," Derek says, "nothing. I won't hurt you."

Stiles sniffs, and rubs his nose. "Then why won't you let me go?" He asks, not being able to help the way his voice cracks a bit. 

Derek turns around. "I'm protecting you," he says slowly, like he's trying to spell it out, "if- if you knew what was out there, in the forest, then you wouldn't want to go out there, trust me. You're only safe here, and I'm not about to let you die."

Stiles squints his eyes. "What's out there?" He asks suspiciously.

Dereks face turns even more serious than normal. "I'm not the only werewolf in these woods. You're lucky I found you before anyone else did."

With that, Derek leaves the room, and locks the door. Stiles lets out a shaky breath, and looks away. He walks over to the rooms single window, and stares out at the forest in front of him. He'll get out. Soon enough. He'll be back home in no time.

Hopefully.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles wraps his body into the thick blankets on the bed. It's freezing, and this stupid ancient house has no heating aparently. All Stiles has is over-sized sweaters, and one really thick quilt. He's freezing.

Derek still hasn't told him why he's not letting him go. Just that he's trying to protect him. From what? Other werewolves, he thinks. But that doesn't make sense, because Dereks a werewolf. He's honna turn on him eventually, and rip Stiles' throat out or something.

Stiles had been here for nearly five days by now, and all he's searched every inch of the room. He's found nothing besides a dresser full of oversized clothes and a couple of empty shoe boxes under the bed. That's it. No weapons, no secret way out. Nothing.

Stiles sighs, as he wraps the blanket further around himself. It's a comfortable, he'll give Derek that. Derek is weird. He must never talk to anyone, because he's extremely bad at talking. Stiles isn't too great either, but Derek is ten times worse. All stiles does now is sit by the window, and stare at the trees. He dreams of going back home, away from this forest.

The door creaks open, so Stiles looks up. Derek just came in a little earlier, he usually waits a couple hours before he comes back in with food or a new drink.

The door fully opens, but Derek doesn't come in. It's a kid, who looks a little younger than Derek. He's tan and has curly black hair. Stiles straightens up. "Hello," the guy says, in a light voice. Stiles looks down and sees he's holding a plate of cookies.

"Who are you?" Stiles says, pulling the blanket off of himself. It's cold, but he's wearing a really big sweater and jeans that keep falling off of him. The kid places the plate onto the bedside table, and says, "I'm Scott."

Stiles narrows his eyebrows. "I'm one of Dereks betas," Scott clarifies. Stiles still stares at him in confusion. Scott lets out a little laugh, and says, "I guess Derek hasn't told you much about us. He's- uh- not the best host."

Stiles nods his head. He is a terrible, terrible captor, that's for sure. He's good at locking doors, that's about it. "Well, I'm Scott," Scott respeats, "what's your name?" Stiles coughs to clear his throat. "Stiles," he says. Scott smiles brightly.

"Nice to meet you," Scott says. Stiles looks him up and down. "Are you gonna let me go?" He asks, voice suspicious. What's a beta? Stiles thinks he remembers reading something about it in supernatural history in one of his history classes. A type of werewolf, definetly, but this guy seems nice.

Scott sighs. "I really wish I could," he says with an awkward laugh, "but Derek might kill me if I do. And I mean, it's really dangerous out there."

"What's out there?" Stiles asks, squinting his eyes.

Scott tilts his head. "He didn't tell you that?" Scott asks. Stiles shakes his head. Scott rolls his eyes. "Of course he didn't. I'm sorry, I'll make sure you know everything you need to know. There's other werewolves out there, and they're vicious. They'll kill you."

Stiles raises his eyebrows. Okay. Great. Wonderful. "Perfect," stiles mutters. Scott shoots him a sympathetic look. "He- Derek, I mean- he's really just trying to keep you safe. I know he seems a little blunt most of the time, but I promise, he only wants you alive."

Stiles sighs, and shakes his head. "But he's a werewolf," Stiles says, looking up at Scott.

Scott gives him another sad look. "I know you're probably scared," he says in a soft tone, "and Dereks not making it better, but I swear, he wants what's best for you. You're safe here, and maybe soon-"

The door opens again, and Derek comes in. He looks angry. Scott looks surprised. "Get out," Derek snaps, pointing at the door. Scott sighs.

"Derek, you can't-"

"Out." Derek snarls, eyes glowing red. Scotts eyes glow a golden color. Stiles wonders why their eyes glow different colors. Scott listens to Derek, and walks out of the room, closing it begins him. 

Derek turns to stiles, eyes back to their normal green color. "I'm sorry that he-"

"You can't keep me here forever, you know," Stiles interupts him. Derek looks down to the floor. Stiles swallows, and says, "I can't stay in a room for the rest of my life. You're gonna have to let me out eventually."

"I will," Derek mutters quietly, "eventually.."

"Just let me go," Stiles says, he's been repeating that for days. Derek makes an annoyed face. Good, he should be annoyed, he deserves to be annoyed. 

"I don't care if you want to die, I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed out there," Derek says. He's been repeating that for so long that Stiles might explode if he hears it one more time. 

Derek glances down at the plate of cookies. "I'll bring you dinner in a little while," he says, then walks to the door. He stops right in the doorway, "if you need me, just call, okay? For anything."

"Yeah," Stiles mutters, sighing. Derek leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Stiles hates the sound of the door locking. He looks over to the plate of cookies and stuffs one into his mouth.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles is pacing the room when the door to his room (or prison) opens. Derek steps in. But he's not holding a plate of food. Stiles looks at him suspiciously, walking closer, sweater hanging off of his body.

"Come," Derek says bluntly, sticking his hand out. Stiles looks him up and down. This guy is crazy. Like completely socially inept. It's kind of an anomaly, honestly. 

"What?" Stiles bites out the question. He's been getting more agressive, the more time he spends locked up in this stupid room. He's getting cabin fever or some shit. 

Derek keeps his emotionless face, and doesn't move his hand. "You said you wanted to leave the room, right?" He asks. Stiles nods. Derek motions to his hand, and says, "then come."

Stiles cautiously reaches out his hand. Derek just grabs him by the wrist, and pulls him out of the room. Stiles scoffs, and mutters, "You know you don't need to drag me, I can walk behind you.." Derek only grunts in response, as he continues to walk.

Stiles looks around the hall. It's nice, there are many pretty pictures on the wall, and a few nice house plants. The floor is hardwood, and the walls are painted plain. Derek leads, or more like drags, him into a large livingroom downstairs. It's really nice. Which is weird. Stiles expected werewolves to live in caves, but this is a very pretty house.

Derek tugs on his wrist to hard, making Stiles cry out, and pull his entire arm away. Derek turns around, looking alert. Stiles cradles his arm, and looks Derek up and down. "Why are you so agressive?" Stiles asks him, with wide eyes.

Dereks face remains unchanged. He mumbles an apology, and reaches his hand out again. Stiles gently places his hand into Dereks. Derek takes it as if he's holding fragile glass, and begins walking again.

Derek takes a turn into another hallway. This house is giant. Stiles has never been in a house so big. They turn into a dining area, and Stiles is suprised to see people in it. There's Scott, who he met the other day, a girl with blonde hair, who has muscly guy sitting close to her. On the other side of the table is a really tall girl with a short bob-cut and a guy with a scarf on and curly blonde hair. 

Stiles' eyes widen, and he slightly hides behind Derek. He never thought that he'd find something else more intimidating than Derek. Derek clears his throat and says out loud to the group of people, "this is Stiles. Don't bother him."

They all stare at him. He looks down, and swallows. He's not the best with people, obviously. Especially when they all stare at him like that. Haven't they ever learned staring is rude? The one girl with blonde hair says, "hi Stiles," in a sickly sweet voice, "I'm Erica."

Stiles nods. Erica. Stiles can't help but wonder if these are all werewolves. Why else would they be in the woods? They're all just bloodthirsty monsters, living together. Maybe now they're all gonna eat him. Together, they're planning to rip his skin off while he's still alive and just eat him. That's what werewolves do. Stiles can't help but step further behind Derek by a few inches, because Derek hasn't eat him yet, so he has a tiny bit of trust in him.

Derek looks annoyed. Maybe he's just grumpy all the time. Erica continues, pointing to everyone as he goes, "This is my boyfriend Boyd, this is Scott, this is Malia, and that's Isaac."

Stiles swallows. They're all still staring at him. Like they've never seen a human before. Maybe they haven't. "H-hi," Stiles says, voice soft. Erica makes a cooing sound, like you would a dog. Stiles narrows his eyes at her. 

"Derek let us have him," she says, drawing her attention away from Stiles, "he's so cute." Stiles furrows his brows. What the hell is that supposed to mean? He is not _cute_. That's a rude thing to say. Stiles already doesn't like these people. Werewolves. 

Derek rolls his eyes, and squeezes Stiles hand a little tighter. "You don't want him, trust me," he mutters, before he leads Stiles out of the room. Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean? He's lovable. Sorry he doesn't fucking fit Dereks standards. And if Derek doesn't want him so bad, why won't he just let him go?

Derek takes him into a kitchen, and lets go of his hand. "Sit," he commands, walking behind the counter. Stiles walks to one of the island chairs and sits down. He likes the change of scenery already. The kitchen is big, and has bigger windows than the ones in Stiles' room.

Derek picks up a knife from the cutting board on the counter, and starts to chop a carrot. Stiles turns back to him with a confused look on his face. Derek glances at him, looks down at his food, then asks in a brutish voice, "What are you staring at?" 

Stiles narrows his eyes. "I thought werewolves only ate raw animals that you caught in the woods," he says. Derek shoots him a glare. Stiles just continues to stare at him with a confused gaze.

"Well," Derek says, aggressively chopping a long stick of celery, "don't believe everything you hear in school," he puts some chopped up vegetables in a big pot behind him that's resting on a light oven flame, "history books usually paint werewolves as monsters."

Stiles scratches the tip of his ear, as Derek chocks some spices in along with the vegetables. "Are you not?" Stiles asks. Derek stops in his tracks. Stiles clears his throat slightly and tries to elaborate, "monsters? You did say that you were keeping me here because of other werewolves, right?"

Derek stays still and quiet for what seems like a long time. Stiles rubs his hands together nervously, fearing he's angered Derek. But, Derek finally turns away from the pot, to the cabinet, and says, "well not all of us are like that.. I'm not like that."

Stiles looks down. He doesn't know if he believes that. Dereks never hurt him, never tried to eat him, at least. But still. He's keeping him trapped inside a bedroom. So he's not exactly the best person. But he is surprisingly human-like. 

Derek pours his vegetable stew into six big bowls, and one smaller bowl. Erica walks into the kitchen a second later, and leans up against the counter. "Hi, cutie," she says to Stiles with a smirk on her red lips. Stiles glares at her, as she turns to Derek. "Help me bring these out," Derek says, grabbing two bowls. Erica grabs some too, and as Derek leaves the room he mutters, "Stay," in Stiles' general direction.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the command. Like he could outrun six werewolves. When Ericas holding one bowl, she asks Derek, "Der, are you bringing your little pet to the run tonight?"

Stiles squints his eyes in curiosity. Derek sits across from Stiles at the counter, and says, "I'm not going tonight." Erica pouts. "Aw, have to spend some time with your new friend-" "Erica," Derek interrupts, voice stern, "go eat. Now.

Erica takes her bowl and walks out of the room, laughing as she goes. Derek pushes the small bowl to Stiles, and then starts to eat his own. Wow, werewolves eat large proportions. Stiles takes a bite of a carrot, and asks, "what's the run?"

"It's a new moon tonight," Derek says, drinking broth, "we go out to the woods and hunt on new moons."

It's been that long since Stiles got here? Two whole weeks? It doesn't feel like so long. And no one has come looking for him. Stiles shakes the thought from his head and asks, "I thought werewolves only hunted on full moons?" 

"Don't believe everything you read," Derek says, taking a sip of his glass of water, "We hunt on new moons as well. The full moon is just stronger."

"What do you hunt? Humans?" Stiles asks. Derek shoots him a glare. "No," he deadpans, "mostly deer. Rabbits. Things like that."

"Then why do-"

"Stop. Asking. Questions." Derek says through gritted teeth. Stiles rolls his eyes, and turns back to his stew. It's surprisingly good. Stiles didn't know that werewolves could even cook. Or have ovens. Or that they're so human. The textbooks really missed that part out.

They eat the rest of the meal in silence. Stiles watches the sun set outside of the big window, as he eats the warm bowl of stew, making Stiles' cold body warm up. It's so cold in this house, maybe because all the werewolves are so internally warm. 

After a while, Scott and the other werewolf Malia bring the bowls into the sink. Malia asks, "Derek are you sure you don't want to come on the run with us?"

"Malia, stop," Scott says, rinsing his big bowl, "He has to watch Stiles," Stiles glares, so Scott lets out an uncomfortable laugh, and says, "sorry. But if you were alone you'd just try to run away."

"I don't know why we aren't keeping him in the basement still, Derek," Malia says. Stiles narrows his eyes at her and says, "you know I'm right here, right?"

Malia shrugs. Scott turns off the sink, as Malia says to Derek, "Really. If he got out, can you even imagine what Theo would-"

"Malia, shut up-"

"Who's Theo?" Stiles asks, snapping his head to Derek. Derek sighs, and rubs his temples. Malia and Scott exchange a look, and both leave the room, saying something about being sorry and that they were gonna go out for the night.

"Who's Theo?" Stiles repeats. Derek shoots his head up. He looks annoyed. "Theo is bad," Derek says, "and you don't want to meet him, okay? That's why you can't leave."

"He's the werewolf?" Stiles asks. Derek nods. "What would happen if I met him?" He asks. 

Derek stares into Stiles' eyes intently. Stiles doesn't look away. "You're not the only sacrifice that I've found in the woods, okay? Everytime it ends the same. They run. Then Theo finds them. And he _tortures_ them. If he had found you instead of me, you'd be dead right now."

Stiles swallows. Derek turns back to the bowl of stew on the counter, completely avoiding eye contact. Stiles taps the table and says quietly, "do you take in all of the sacrifices?"

Derek looks back up. "I used to. But they kept running away so I figured what's the point of trying to save people if they don't want to be saved."

Stiles is about to say something when Derek pushes from his seat and takes the two empty bowls from the sink. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Stiles. Drop it."

Stiles sighs. Derek starts to walk out of the kitchen and commands, "come on." Stiles gets up from his counter seat and follows Derek into a now empty dining room. They walk through a few halls until they reach a big living room with a fire going in the fireplace. 

"Sit," Derek says, taking a seat in the comfy looking chair. Stiles takes a seat on the couch next to it. Derek picks up a book when the coffee table, and starts to read. Stiles sighs, and puts his feet up, relaxing into the comfortable couch. 

Werewolves are confusing, Stiles decides. He though they went crazy at night, but Derek is just reading calmly by a fire. Stiles pushes himself up into a sitting position and asks, "So why did you save me?"

Derek looks up. Stiles looks into his green eyes. Derek clears his throat, and asks, "what?" Stiles shrugs. "If you said you stopped trying to help people. Then why did you help me?"

Dwrek swallows thickly in his throat. He scratches he side of his head nervously, as Stiles narrows his eyes in curiosity. "B-because," he stutters, looking everywhere but at Stiles' eyes, "you were different. Than the rest of them, I mean."

"What was so different about me?" Stiles presses on. Derek coughs. "I-I'm not sure," he says quietly. Stiles gives a small nod, and Derek starts to read again.

What was different?

-

Derek leads Stiles back to his bedroom later that night. He doesn't hold his hand this time. He opens up Stiles door, and lets him in. Stiles turns to him, and asks, "you locking me in again?"

Derek locks to the doorknob and says, "no." Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?" He asks, sitting on the bed.

"I don't think you're gonna leave. Not when there's six werewolves in the house," he says, leaning against the doorway, "and there are dangerous ones that would kill you. You don't seem stupid to me."

Stiles scoffs. "I'm not. And I'm not gonna run."

Derek nods. "Good night. See you tomorrow," he says, befitting leaving, shutting the door behind him. Stiles is happy not to hear the lock behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Allison Taps her fingers on the desk, as she speaks, "it's been nearly two weeks, mr. Stilinski. We should've had Stiles out after a few days."

The sheriff sighs, sinking further into his desk chair. "I know, Ally," he says, sounding really tired and exasperated, "but I'm still working on getting a permit to enter the woods. You know how hard that is."

Allison sighs herself. Oh, she knows. Her fathers the one who gives out the permits. Him and his stupid hunter friends.

"We don't need a permit," she says, in a hushed tone, leaning in closer, "it's _Stiles_."

"I hope that you're not telling the sheriff to actively break the law," the sheriff says quietly. Allison huffs out a frustrated breath.

"Of course," the sheriff continues, leaning in and whispering, "if a few well trained hunters somehow _snuck_ into the forest, and well, _found_ my son, well, as long as they didn't get caught.."

Allison tilts her head, smirk creeping up on her face. "Okay," she says, standing from her seat.

Before she leaves, though, the sheriff says, "not you, Allison. You're not trained. Understand?"

Allison swallows, and nods her head. The sheriff nods back, as Allison turns around and walks out.

-

Allison loads her gun and places it down on the table. Lydia, Kira, and Jackson stand around the table, looking over the weapons she's laid out.

"You really think we could handle werewolves?" Kira asks, nervously tapping the table.

"Yeah," Jackson mutters, picking up a hand gun and looking it over, "We're not exactly hunters."

"We can do it," Allison says, "it's _Stiles_."

Jackson sighs, and Kira nods, still tapping the wooden table of the basement. "He's one of our bestfriends," Allison continues.

Lydia twirls a silver arrow head in her fingers. "You have read about werewolves, haven't you?" Lydia says, pursing her red lips, "killing machine, bloodthirsty, all powerful?"

"Yes, Lydia," Allison deadpans, "but these weapons can take them down. Okay? We can do this."

"And how exactly do we get into the forest?" Jackson says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Allison pulls a roll of paper out of her bag, and lays it down on the table, revealing a map. "With this," she says.

Kira tilts her head and looks it over. "Wow," she says, eyes wide.

"It was in my fathers office," Allison says. The map is huge, as huge as the forest is.

There's a noise from upstairs. Allison mutters instructions under her breath, and everyone starts to hide the weapons. As expected, her dad walks down the stairs seconds later.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the staircase. Everyone looks down and says hi, as Allison just glares at him.

Things have been tense, since he put Allisons bestfriend into the forest. They've hardly talked.

"What're you guys up to?" He asks.

"Nothing," Allison snaps. Her dad nods, seeming to get the point. 

"Okay," he says, with a little wave, "let me know if you want to order a pizza or something."

With that, he walks back upstairs. Allison sighs, and pulls her map back out. "Are you guys in, or out?" She asks.

Everyone looks around at eachother. Lydia is the first one to say, "fine. But if I die, I'm gonna be pissed."

Kira says next, "I'll help. For Stiles."

Then, Jackson rolls his eyes. "Fine," he mutters. 

Allison smile. Time to start planning.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles stands at Dereks door, pillow in hand. He taps lightly at the doorframe, debating wether or not to go inside. He's been freezing his ass off all night, and Dereks bed is so big and warm looking. Surely Derek wouldn't mind if Stiles just crawled in. To stay warm, of course.

But now Stiles has been standing in the doorway for twenty minutes like an idiot, holding a pillow. Because maybe Derek freaks him out. Not as much as in the beginning, but hey, he's still a _werewolf_. Stiles has to be a little cautious. Of course he can always sneak into Scotts bed, Scott doesn't remotely scare him. He has really fluffy blankets, too. But Dereks blankets look so fucking soft, and his bed is huge.

Stiles sighs. It's pitch black, everyone's asleep, even Malia who stays up till ungodly hours in the night. Stiles gives the door one last tap, then turns around. He glances back around, then turns around again, as he hears, "Stiles, what?" From inside the dark room.

Stiles jumps a little at the voice, but turns around anyways. Dereks eyes are open, glowing bright red into the darkness. "What?" He repeats, leaning up a bit. He sounds tired, and groggy. Well, he did just wake up. Had he heard Stiles' heartbeat?

Stiles plays with his hands. "It's cold," he says, leaning his side against the doorframe. Derek stares at him with confusion in his eyes. Stiles sighs impatiently, and storms into the bedroom. Derek just continues to look at him in surprise as Stiles walks around to the other side of the bed, and climbs under the big thick wool blankets. "It's warmer in here," Stiles says, resting his head on his pillow.

Derek stares at him for a moment, then swallows thickly, nodding his head. He lays back down on his bed, facing the opposite wall. Stiles snuggles in, and closes his eyes. He can't believe Dereks been keeping him in that uncomfortable bed for weeks when he had such a huge warm bed to share.

It's almost sad that living with werewolves is normal now. Not completely, probably not ever completely, but not so scary, either. Dereks pack are just normal teenagers. They're like kids he'd meet in school. So strange.

Stiles shifts where he lays. He hasn't been able to sleep since he's got here. He misses home, his own bed. And he misses his dad. Stiles is fairly certain no ones looking for him. He doesn't even blame them. It's the dark forest, it's illegal to come in here. Once some teenagers tried to sneak in and they got sent to jail. It's a serious crime, and his father is a cop. It's okay. It's not terrible here. It's better than the alternative, out in the woods with actually dangerous werewolves.

Stiles sighs, and turns to face Dereks back. Usually at home when Stiles couldn't sleep he'd take some sleeping pills, but they don't exactly have that kind of medicine out here. All they have are herbal medicines that they make themselves, and nothing for sleeping.

Stiles turns onto his back, and pulls more of the thick blanket onto himself. Derek turns to look at him and mutters, "Stop. Moving." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Sorry," he murmurs, turning on his side so they are face to face, "I can't sleep."

Derek sighs. "Well, what am I supposed to do about that?" he asks. Stiles shifts a bit closer to him. He's so warm. Werewolves have higher body temperatures, that's what Stiles read in all the textbooks. Seems like being a werewolf has a lot of advantages. 

"Tell me a story," Stiles says, leaning in close enough that they're not touching but Stiles can soak up Dereks body heat. Derek scoffs, and rolls his eyes. "C'mon," Stiles says quietly, "you must have a good story. Tell me one."

"I don't have any. Go to bed," Derek says, rolling over so he's facing away from Stiles again. 

"Oh, come on," Stiles says, crawling closer to Dereks back, "you're a freaking werewolf. You have to have _something_ interesting to say. I'm bored, entertain me."

"You talk a lot, you know that?" Derek asks. Stiles sighs, and closes his eyes. After a few seconds, Derek continues, "When I saw you," he swallows, "that- that first night. I'm not exactly sure why I took you back here," he pauses for a few moments, "I- I think it was the way you smelled."

"The way I smelled?" Stiles asks curiously, propping his head up onto his elbow. 

Derek doesn't turn around. "You smelled hurt. And scared," he says, "so.. Fragile. And you were crying, it- it was.." He trails off, "you smelled familiar."

"Familiar," Stiles repeats, curiously. Derek nods his head, still facing the opposite wall. "Kind of like pack," Derek says, so quietly Stiles barely hears him. "That's why-" he says, cutting himself off. "Why I save you that night."

Stiles stares at Dereks back. "Now go to bed," Derek mutters, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. Stiles rolls his eyes, but does the same, leaning in close to Dereks warm back. "Night," Stiles whispers, eyes drifting closed. He thinks he hears Derek says goodnight back before he drifts off to sleep.


End file.
